Mirror Mirror
by Bizzy247
Summary: Sean Renard is tired. Tired of being on the run, tired of hiding, of fighting, of the intrigues, but most of all, tired of doing it all alone. If only the available options weren't either taken or deadly...
1. SCENE 1 – Entrez

The body looked like a train wreck. Literally; like a train had run over it. Even Nick was surprised to see blood spatter eight feet up the platform pillars. The CSU team scrambled around the scene, putting bloody q-tips and … bits …into plastic bags, taking picture after picture. They must have developed strong stomachs in the past few years. Swallowing his own nausea Nick stepped over the CSU tape for a closer look.

There wasn't much to see really. The clothes were so torn up, soaked in blood and mingled with tissue. But two long impact tracks clearly ran diagonally across the body up from left to right—across the left elbow to right shoulder and again from the left knee, just below the right hip and then through the right wrist.

"Damn," Hank said heavily. He put a hand up to his mouth and glanced up to the ceiling. "Damn! There's blood up there, too. Why do we get the ugly ones these days? This is messed up, man."

Nick squatted next to the body. The wounds weren't slashes or cuts, but looked more… crushed. And all the more disturbing. The head was turned to the right, also slightly crushed, but nowhere near as damaged as the rest.

"Any idea what did this?" Nick asked the ME.

"Huh, you got me. That's your job, thank goodness," she replied. "The entire chest cavity is crushed, so there's your cause of death, though blood loss would have done it as well."

"And the wound pattern?"

"That's an odd one. You can see the lines here and here. Nearly two, two and a half feet apart. It suggests that the victim was run over by something with wheels or rails, and very heavy and fast."

"Any ideas what?" Hank interjected.

"That's the funny thing," she replied. "It's similar to a train, if a train ran across the platform and did no other damage whatsoever."

"What about the head?" Nick asked.

"Also odd. I'll need to confirm this with an x-ray, but from the shape and depth of this indentation and the bruising pattern, this was not a high energy impact, just a really heavy one."

Nick filed that away. Two different kinds of wounds. "And what do we know about the victim?"

A CSU uniform squatting near the victim's feet replied without looking up.

"Male. 32. Tech service industry. Likely a recent immigrant. He has a green card issued just last month. Also most of his clothes are not made or sold in the US."

"Where'd he come from?" Hank asked.

"Japan according to the green card."

"Do we have any witnesses?" Nick asked, looking around. Some uniforms were holding three people in a corner of the platform near some vending machines. Two of the uniforms were talking with the people one at a time a little removed from the group.

"Hey, guys," Drew huffed as he jogged up to the edge of the tape. "Security cameras are a bust. Well, sort of—"

Suddenly a disturbance broke out from the vending machines. Two men were looking intently at Drew and trying to get past the officers. One was talking loudly in an Asian dialect.

Sir! Sir! We saw it! The demon!

Nick stood up and jumped over the tape. "Officer, are these our witnesses?"

"Yes, sir. Though they don't seem to speak English."

The Tengu! You can tell them for us. The man was peering around Nick still looking at Drew.

"Any of you speak English?" Nick said loudly.

All three shook their heads. The man who had been speaking turned to Nick. "Ingurish no. japan." He pointed at Drew.

Drew stepped up. "Oh, sorry, not Japan! Home grown ingurishu."

The man's face fell and he turned to his companions, an older man in a very comfortable—and therefore unfashionable—sweater, and a woman who was probably his wife. Both had recently been crying. Chigau! He's a foreigner. This is not good. We need to tell them what happened.

The old man replied. They wouldn't believe us anyway

But we have to try!

"Excuse me," said another woman from behind the officers. "I'm sorry, but I really have to get to work. Can you take my statement now?"

"Of course," said Drew stepping past the immigrants with a sympathetic nod. "I'm Sargent Wu. Tell me what happened?"

"Aint nothing happened!" said a man from deep in the corner. "I dunno what the damn Chinese are all excited about. The man was crazy. Drugs or something. He started talking to the air like a crazy person, waving his arms around like he's trying to hold somebody off him, then BAM! Must 'a been some messed up shit he was taking, to end up like that. Heart attack or something. Man, tha's it. Can we all f*****g leave now?"

A few other witnesses grumbled. Nick looked at the officer in charge and nodded over this shoulder. They stepped aside. Sargent Wu and the other officers went back to taking statements.

"What have you got so far?" Nick asked quietly.

"Pretty much what the bum said. Not much to go on. They were all a group," he gestured to the immigrants, "quiet, then the victim starts talking to no one in Japanese I guess, waving his arms around like it's an argument of some kind. They all said he had his hands out like he was trying to calm someone down, then he falls to the ground and… explodes."

"So, no one saw what actually killed him."

"Well, no one we can talk to."

"We need an interpreter. "

 _Back at the police station 45 minutes later_

Captain Renard exited his office like a king coming to his court; with a dignity approaching nobility. The man gave 'stature' a new meaning.

He glanced at the witness room. Three people were settled into chairs but only one was drinking the coffee.

"Where do we stand, people?"

Griffin leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Well, sir, we have a big mess and a lot of body parts and witness statements have been anything but helpful."

"Security footage?"

"Nada." Burkhardt replied. "It corroborates our statements; that the vic was just talking to the air, and bam! No indication what hit him."

Renard's brows furrowed. "And our visitors?"

"They don't speak English. We found an interpreter at the University of Portland and she's on her way. We are guessing they're family of the victim."

"How did you get them to come to the station?" the captain asked.

"We got the interpreter on the phone."

"Ah. Burkhardt, do you have any—"

" _kokodeshitayone, shikarishiro!_ "

Renard turned to see that Sargent Wu stepping up on his left. He had only a second to be truly confused—I could have sworn that man spoke nothing but English, cretin—and a women stepped smartly around the Sargent and gave a small, sharp bow. Now Renard truly had reason to be surprised. Though the voice carried a flawless Asian accent, the neatly coiffed hair–held in place with a pencil crossing a lacquered chopstick (from which a dangling charm sparkled)—was as blond as they come. When she looked up, her eyes were blue as well.

"Please pardon my tardiness. I am Mira Speigel." Her English was as warm as her Japanese had been lilting. "I understand you have need of a Japanese interpreter?"

"Excellent," said Burkhardt, rising. "Detective Burkhardt. If you'd please follow me."

"Thank you!" the interpreter chimed.

Renard spent a few more minutes getting a full briefing from Griffin and Wu before heading back to his office. Clearly this was another wesen attack. With Burdkhardt on the case he wasn't worried, though they did seem to be coming up more frequently since the Grimm's powers had manifested.

Quick banter was flowing in the witness room. At least that was going well.

" _Sugoi! Dono yō ni anata no kami o someru nodesu ka?"_

 _"Kore ha shizen no iro desu, someranaindesu._

 _"Honto desuka? Demo nihon-jin deshou?"_

 _"iie, watashiha Amerika-jin desu. Rokunenkan Nihon ni sundeitandesukedo…_

 _"toriaezu, kyou no ken ni modorimashou?_ _見たものは２メートルの高さだったでしょう？ほかの特徴はありましたか？_

Based on her voice, you would have guessed the interpreter was Japanese herself, but she was just as blonde as Adalind. Hmm. Surely there had been a charm on that chopstick in her hair? Irrelevant.

Suppressing a heavy sigh Renard began searching for information on invisible wesen with train wheels for legs.


	2. SCENE 2 – Getting to Know You

* _beep*_

Sean sighed. The sun had finally broken up the rain and transformed the streets of Portland to rivers of glowing silver. He set down his cappuccino and pulled his phone from his breast pocket. Some people had the luxury of ignoring every ping of their electronic leashes. Some people were not police captains.

 _Damn_. He thought. _And it was such a lovely morning._ He opened the text message.

Meisner: [How's the rain?]

Me: [None of the moment.]

This was perhaps the first time their safe code was literally true.

Meisner: [They are moving. Strange reports from SnF.]

Me: [Keep me informed.]

Renard slipped the phone back in his pocket and considered brooding over the rest of his cappuccino or forgetting about Meisner's rumors. There would be tons of wesen in San Francisco, more than enough to warrant the attention of the Verrat. It would turn out to be nothing.

A glimmer in the corner of his eye caused him to look up. He locked eyes with a petite blond woman, balancing a steaming mug in one hand and an armful of books in the other, just about to sit down at the next table.

"Good morning," she said with a nod. Then she glanced at him again, searchingly. "Captain –Renard, was it?"

"Yes," he said, surprised. Though, come to think of it she was rather familiar. "And you are, sorry, what was your name?"

"Not a problem. Mira, Mira Speigel."

"Oh, yes," he replied, remembering. "You were the interpreter for the subway murder."

"That's right. Are you meeting someone?" She glanced around the very crowded café then back to him.

"Not today"

"Ah. Is it alright if I join you?"

"Oh." He was somewhat surprised, and instantly suspicious. Lately it seemed like normal people just didn't exist around him. "Of course, please," he said quickly. He scooted around to allow her to take the other chair at the bistro table.

"Thank you so much." She carefully set down a steaming mug of green tea, then rather quickly dumped coat, purse, stack of books, and sat down with a freeing sigh. "Ooof. I always thought personal baggage was metaphorical, but apparently not."

"Apparently. At least, not always," he replied. Why had he told her to sit down? Was he asking for trouble? Keeping tabs on a threat? Was she a threat? She didn't seem the least bit tense. Well, no more than any young woman who had just dodged a rain shower and made it through a crowded Portland coffee shop balancing hot tea and twenty pounds of books in three-inch heels.

She delicately picked up the mug, turned it around three times and then, closing her eyes, inhaled the steam deeply. "Mmm. That's better," she said, relaxing a bit into the chair and turning to the window. "The sunshine here is so beautiful. It's pure and clean. Makes all the clouds worth it."

Renard nodded. "It takes a true native to appreciate Northwest weather."

She laughed. A rich, free laugh. "Well, sadly, I am not a native. At least, not of Portland."

"Really?" Renard asked. This did not bode well. Why was she here if she wasn't a native?

"Oh, no," she continued, pausing to sip her tea with extreme serenity. "I've lived up and down the west coast of North America and around the Pacific, I've only been in Portland for about six weeks."

Six weeks? That would be only a month before the Tengu attack. Six weeks was a long time to set up a stake out. But on the other hand, some conmen were unbelievably patient. He was himself. Did this make her more or less suspicious? "Well, welcome. What brings you to Portland?" He tried to make it friendly and not interrogative.

"Oh, mostly work."

"You mean, interpreting?"

"Teaching, actually. I teach Japanese, Chinese, and ESL at Portland University. I just started this quarter. Though, even at a private school like University of Portland teaching doesn't pay too well. Translating and interpreting let me bring in some extra cash, pay off old loans, and they help to meet new people, get to know the area."

Reasonable explanation. "This is your first year here then?"

"Yep. For the last six years I've been teaching in Japan."

In Japan? That was interesting. Very removed from any of the politics that plagued his life. Still… "Really? In… Tokyo?"

She gave him a slightly condescending smile. "Japan is a lot bigger than just Tokyo, you know. No, I was out west, in a tiny village on the Sea of Japan." She held up the tea cup as if it contained the secrets of the world.

"Sounds lovely," he said cautiously.

She sighed. "It was basically paradise. Though, not very modern. Good wifi was nonexistent."

"Well, here's to civilization," he raised his cappuccino, suggesting a toast.

She flashed a delighted smile and tapped this mug with her own. "Cheers! Or as we say, Kampai!"

"Kampai," he echoed.

He took a sip, relaxing. She could be a plant, but his particular enemies were generally more direct. The lack of thinly veiled threats was a comforting sign, even this early in a conversation. His eye fell on the books she'd placed on the table. To his surprise the top title was a French novel.

" _Parlez-tu aussi francais_?"

She blinked. "Uh… " She followed his gaze. "Oh! Oh, I, uh, just started learning a few weeks ago."

"Oh." He said, somewhat disappointed. "How many languages do you speak?"

She took a deep breath, "English, Japanese, and Mandarin, fluently, also Spanish. I wrapped up my Mandarin studies a year ago and I decided I needed something new."

"You are a linguist, then?"

"Technically, linguists study the science of language; they don't necessarily learn to speak multiple languages. Similarly, polylingual people, like myself, don't necessarily study linguistics. But it is hard not to pick things up along the way." She shrugged.

"Spoken like a true professor." He nodded and raised his mug to her.

She smiled and continued sipping her tea. Each time she raised her mug she seemed to slip into some kind of serene ceremony. It was… endearing? Odd? Both? He recalled something about the Japanese having some formal ceremony around tea drinking. Maybe that's what it was. That or she'd spiked her tea with something _really_ interesting.

"So, why French?" he asked. His native tongue was so beautiful and natural, not to mention romantic. It would be a perfect tool for a plant.

She thought for a moment. "I hate to say just because it's beautiful, but really that's what it comes down to. I don't so much choose languages as get seduced by them."

That was a surprising answer. "I've never heard Japanese or Mandarin described as particularly romantic."

She smiled even wider. "Not typically, but they might surprise you. I find both to be enchanting. But there is something about French that always sound like a love poem. It's very… sensuous. "

"And how does French fit into your teaching plans."

"Oh, it doesn't," she laughed. "French is popular and sadly not in high demand. Nearly all French speakers are bi-or even tri-lingual, so French translators or interpreters are rarely necessary. It's just a hobby."

Renard swirled his cappuccino, now nearly gone. "So was it just the University that brought you to Portland?"

She shrugged. "I have some family in the Northwest, in Seattle and out in Idaho, so I didn't want to be too far away. But there's less demand for Asian languages there. Seattle has all it needs and Idaho just doesn't have much need to begin with. And the Northwest is such a lovely place to be." She said 'be' as if the word had mysterious weight.

"True. And you are enjoying Portland so far?"

"Oh, definitely. Powell's has been _amazing_. That place is heaven for bookworms like me. My sister would fall over and die of happiness." More warm laughter. "And the people are wonderful. So much variety!"

"There's a lot of that around here," he said, thinking of wesen. A reflected sunbeam bounced across Mira's face.

Renard drained the last of his cappuccino, just in time for another beep from his phone.

"That's the precinct. I've got to head out."

"Thanks for the seat, and the chat," she said sweetly.

He stood, gathering his coat. "You're very welcome."

She smiled and… turned to look out the window? No cryptic 'see you around' comments? No lingering gaze to indicate he was being watched? She took a long sip of tea. Then she glanced back up at him, and frowned.

"Did you… forget something?"

"Ah, no. Sorry. Lost in thought. See you around," he said. Great, now he sounded like the creep.

"Maybe," she laughed. She pulled a book from the middle of her stack and propped it open with purpose. Clearly he was dismissed.

Well, that's fine. He was going anyway. He glanced back at the door. She already seemed entirely engrossed in her book (she had said she was a bookworm). She didn't look up or reach for a phone to report their conversation. How suspiciously normal.

Or maybe just normal.

 _Just normal, Sean_ , he said to himself. _Not everyone is trying to kill you_.

He turned a corner and someone tried to kill him.


	3. SCENE 3 – The Bar

As a rule Sean Renard avoided bars. When Sean Renard wanted a good time it usually involved marble floors, velvet upholstery, attire with entirely too much fabric and the finest (and oldest) single malt whisky that money could buy. Opera was usually involved. If nothing else, the conversations were enlightened, refined, and rarely in English.

Thus it was a surprise to him when he turned into a bar of middle character and took a seat at the counter. Once, several years ago, he had visited this establishment as part of a case, making contact with a witness. That particular visit ended with a rather nasty brawl when the killer himself turned up at the pool table in back trying to hustle Renard out of every penny. Had he not been… well, more than human, that fight might have gone differently. Had he also not been a master of self-control—aided by his hybrid nature—and able to resist a woge in the midst of a take down, things might also have done differently.

Tonight was different though. There was no case. Well, there was one, but Burkhardt and his posse were handling it. Sometimes it was _very_ convenient to have such a capable Grimm on the force. No, tonight, Sean Renard was simply tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of juggling daggers in the air and waiting for one come down on his head. Plots and intrigue had been his life, all his life. But they were growing tiresome. And deadly.

The news from Meisner was not favorable. Plus, there was movement from several unusual parties in Europe. Rats fleeing a sinking ship. But who were the rats? And who were the sailors? And most of all, who were the pirates firing the cannonballs?

He ordered a local microbrew and a basket of steak fries. Better to stay away from the cheap whiskey.

Portland used to be safe. No one here knew who he was and no one dangerous knew where he was. He was just a talented police officer—who liked opera and fine whiskey and spoke five languages—but still, just an officer. These days he was starting to wonder if he needed to take more precautions. Maybe that's what led him to the bar—some anonymity.

Out of habit he had chosen a seat facing the door. So he had a clear view when it opened to admit a few wet patrons and the fleeting glimmer of headlights. Two, obviously a couple, grabbed a table in the corner. The third, holding a phone up to one ear and plugging the other with a finger, stepped to the side of the door and kept talking. Renard went back to his beer. But then he heard a familiar sound…

すみません、雨が急に降ってきて、聞こえなかったんです。ごめんね! ＞＞(Sorry! It started to rain and I had to duck inside. Yes, it is quite loud. Sorry!)

He looked back at the figure huddled by the door. A wide brim hat jammed down over the head and a stylish trench coat had hidden the blond hair and petite frame. But a closer look proved it was clearly Mira Speigel.

田中先生に聞いたんですか？ 私の作った年間計画の全部持っていますので…そうそう…一分未満でじゅうぶんです。 あそうですか！ いちいになったんか！？ すごい！ みんなにおめてどうを伝いくださいね。 ええ。 バイバイ。＞＞

(Have you asked Tanaka-sensei? He has all my original curriculum binders. That's right. The skits should be only about a minute. They won? That's amazing! I miss them too. Yep. Bye bye!)

She hung up and fished in her purse for a moment, settling the phone. When she looked up it was obvious she wasn't sure where she was or quite how she'd gotten there. She looked around the bar curiously, then out the door at the rain. With a sigh she turned up her collar and hitched up her purse straps. Then she took one last look around and locked eyes with Sean.

She looked at him for a moment. Then with another quick glance around the bar she sashayed across the floor.

"What a delightful surprise!"

"Indeed," he said. "What brings you to this part of town?"

"Agh," she sighed heavily. "ESL tutoring. Are you alone again?"

"Until now," he replied. "Care to join me?"

"Sure." She draped her dripping coat over the back of the bar stool and climbed up onto the seat. "What's good?"

"What do you like?"

"I've been drinking sake and umeshu for six years. I'm a blank slate."

He laughed. "Well, Portland has lots of local microbrews. Have you tried anything from 10 Barrel?"

"In fact I haven't." She ordered a pint. He was just starting to wonder how to start a conversation when she continued. "Any interesting cases lately?"

"Rather too interesting, actually," he replied. "And nothing that would make good dinner conversation."

"Do fries and beer count as dinner in America now?"

"Well… perhaps not." He smiled. "How are your studies going? _Pardon! Je devrais dire, comment vont vos études?_ " (Pardon! I should say, how are your studies going?)

She blinked in surprise thought for a moment. " _Plutôt bien... mais mon français est encore... assez simple_." (Fairly well, but my french is still... rather simple)

" _Je trouve ça difficile a croire_." (I find that hard to believe) He took a sip from his now half full pint.

She also took a drink, a rather large gulp. " _Vous avez de... grandes attentes_ " (You have high expectations) "And also, I didn't know you spoke French!" she finished sounding either impressed or scandalized.

He leaned back a bit. " _C'est une belle langue"_ (It's a beautiful language)

 _"_ _J_ _e suis d'accord,"_ (I agree) She replied. Her accent was quite good.

" _Alors, parlez-moi un peu de vous,_ " he said (So, tell me about yourself.) " _En français, bien sûr, pour vous pratique._ " (In French, of course, for practice)

She took a deep breath. _"A challenge! How can I refuse? Let me think. I… like to acquire new knowledge."_

 _"Clearly. That is a rare thing"_

She smiled. _"I also like coffee. I think you also like coffee?"_

 _"The French adore their coffee."_

 _"Are you French?"_

 _"…No."_ He said slowly, but definitively.

She looked at him doubtfully but let it drop. " _I often like to walk in a park after visiting a café. Do you recommend any local parks?"_

 _"Yes. Actually, Columbia Park is just down the way from the University. It is very lovely in the fall."_

 _"Sounds perfect. Perhaps I will walk there on Saturday. Is it very crowded?"_

 _"Not often. This time of year it should be fine in the late afternoon."_

 _"Do you go there often?"_

He paused, mulling the conversation over in his mind. " _I sometimes find myself there."_

"Mmmm. _I'll explore Columbia Park this Saturday. Perhaps I will see you there sometime."_

 _"That would be nice. Hopefully—"_

Renard wasn't entire sure what he intended to say but he was interrupted by a rich vibrato from his breast pocket. " _Pardon me._ " He put the phone to his ear. "Renard…I see…Yes. I'll be right there. 15 minutes?...Excellent." He replaced the phone in his pocket and stood. "I'm sorry, I have to go. _Thank you for the conversation."_

She laughed. "You're welcome. We should talk again when my French is better. "

He swung on his coat. "I would enjoy that. Take care, Ms. Spiegel."

"Mira. Call me Mira."

Just as he opened his mouth to say farewell a silver glimmer flickered across her face. It looked just like the sweep of headlights, except… something about it seemed off. But he had to be going and nothing was triggering his innately suspicious nature. It was probably nothing.

"Mira, then." Renard turned up his collar and sent her an enigmatic smile. "Au revoir!"

Just as he climbed into his car it hit him. Mira was seated facing away from the window. Where had the light come from?


	4. SCENE 4 – Le Parc

In addition to acquiring new languages, Mira Spiegel enjoyed books, all sorts of gaming, various forms of dance, and running. Running around rice paddies in Japan had become a cathartic ritual and she was excited to continue it in Portland.

It only took about ten minutes to walk to Columbia Park from her little house near the University. Once she hit the lovely paths of the park, she picked up the pace.

The towering evergreens provided a tunnel of shade. Not that it was necessary. Though it had been a beautiful clear autumn day the sun was starting to go down and the air was getting chilly. Fortunately, a light weight running jacket had been one of Mira's first purchases on US soil. After a tea pot that used US current.

Mira ran around the entire park perimeter. Then she started on a second lap. Parts of the park were getting rather dim now but street lamps kept the paths lit. One more lap would do it. She had just passed the cottage when she heard it.

"Stop it! Let go of me!"

Mira stopped, listening. There. To the right. About… 30 yards. A copse of bushes and trees were blocking her view.

"Shut up, bitch!" There was a loud thump. Mira stepped quickly through the bushes in time to see a man dragging a now cowering woman through the bushes. His hand was over her mouth and she had clearly received a blow to the head, though she was still conscious.

Mira started walking purposefully towards them. She pressed the emergency button on her Bluetooth. "Yes, I'd like to report an assault in Columbia Park. I need two ambulances and a police unit. Please hurry!"

She hung up then walked faster, bursting through the bushes after the man just as he dumped the woman on the ground. "HEY! What the HELL do you think you're doing?!"

The man jerked around to face her, clearly enraged. "Back off, bitch. This is none of your business."

Mira stood her ground. "It is absolutely my business right up until the police get here." She paused for effect. "They're on their way."

"I told you to get lost!" He took a step towards her, nostrils flaring.

"And I said no." She stepped sideways, almost between him and the dazed woman. "Though you might want to consider taking your own advice."

He reached out to grab her and she slapped his hand away, hard.

"Bad idea, girlie." The man's head jerked and his skin rippled into scales. His teeth sharpened into points and his eyes turned red.

Mira didn't even blink. Her own skin rippled. The Skalingeck did blink, which was all the time she needed.

"Worse idea for you." She stepped over the unconscious body and disappeared into the trees.

###

It was just after 4 pm. Sean Renard checked himself in the mirror. He ran a hand over his hair. Hmm. Was that a bit of gray? Perhaps not. It was fine.

He checked the knot in his tie, straightened his cuffs, and headed for the car.


	5. SCENE 5 - Aftermath

Police lights greeted Captain Renard's arrival at Columbia Park. He checked in with the precinct as he pulled into a parking spot.

"Tell me what's up at Columbia Park?"

"We got a call about eight minutes ago about an assault. The caller asked for two ambulances and hung up. Lieutenant Rogers arrived three minutes later. Our last report is female victim with a possible concussion and a badly injured suspect."

Renard climbed out of the car. "Who injured the suspect?"

"No idea, sir. You'd have to ask Rogers."

"I'll do that. Thank you,"

Paramedics were hovering over two separate figures. An officer was also with each group. The first group that Renard passed was rather messy. The EMTs had just stabilized the man's vital signs though he remained unconscious. Lieutenant Rogers was standing by on alert just in case he woke and caused trouble. The victim was several feet away, wrapped in a blanket and holding an icepack to her head as a paramedic shined a light into her eyes. She didn't seem entirely coherent.

"I never saw him before… just came out … the bushes. I yelled but…hit me."

"Captain Renard?" Rogers called. Renard stepped over. "What are you doing here—Sir?"

"I was going to enjoy a nice evening stroll," he began. "What happened?"

Rogers gave a wry smile. "You won't believe it."

"You're new on our force, son. Try me. "

Rogers shrugged. "Starts out normal. Lowlife bum grabs a woman walking home from the grocery store through the park. Mrs. Sanchez lives two blocks away and shops at the bodega on the other side of the park. We found her bags just through the trees. She'll need a new carton of eggs."

"I think we can arrange to get her some on the way home?" Renard suggested.

Rogers blinked, but nodded. "Consider it done. Well, there are gouges in the grass near the bags that make it clear that she was grabbed and fought. Then she was dragged into those bushes over there. EMTs say she was hit on the left temple and may have a concussion."

Renard eyed the poor woman. She didn't seem to be bleeding or injured elsewhere. She would probably be fine. He might have to expand a beat to get more officers in this area earlier in the day. Even now the sun wasn't quite down.

"So how did our suspect wind up like that?"

Rogers shifted nervously. "That we don't know. Mrs. Sanchez hasn't been up to saying much yet. Nothing that we couldn't piece together ourselves. But she doesn't seem to have been in any condition to do that herself."

"What are his injuries? "

"Now that's where it gets really weird."

"I'll say," said an EMT. They had strapped the suspect onto a gurney and were preparing to load him into an ambulance. "Sir?" he said to Renard.

"Go ahead."

"He shows several sets of injuries. There are lacerations on almost all exposed areas. The patterns suggest claws, though the cuts are much too fine to be any animal claws I know of. Also the cuts are too precise. Both wrists were slit. He easily could have bled out. Based on the blood pattern in the bushes over there I'd say he's lost at least two units of blood. He also shows blunt force trauma to head, ribs, and knees. I'd guess being struck with on oversized baseball bat."

"You mean like a club?"

"Possibly?" the EMT continued. "One of the blows is an inch from the sternum, specifically from the xiphoid."

"An inch from being fatal," Renard clarified.

The EMT nodded and continued. "The throat was nearly crushed, though the damage wasn't lethal. Combined with blood loss it's no wonder he passed out. And finally, he has stab wounds. The docs at the hospital will be able to tell you more, but based on size and shape my guess is that he was stabbed with a spear."

"A spear?"

"Well, I can tell you the blade was at least three and a half inches wide, maybe four, and almost an inch thick."

"Three and a half inches _wide?_ " Renard said incredulously. "How does that happen?"

"Like I said," the EMT replied. "It's a guess. But the guy has lost at least one kidney and his right quad will not be same again."

"Yeah, or his left knee," said Rogers. "Sir, whoever did this wasn't just diffusing a situation. They were sending a message."

Renard nodded, thinking. "So we have three different ways our suspect almost died. Have we found any evidence of a third party?"

"Other than the injuries? No. There are no weapons or significant footprints to indicate a third party."

"And no other witnesses?"

"Just our 911 caller." Rogers gestured to the side where his partner, Officer Cejka, was talking with a woman in running gear.

As Renard glanced up the woman also glanced his direction. A light flickered over her face and he recognized her.

"Mira?" He walked over so quickly he might have jumped. "What on earth are you doing here?"

She smiled a bit awkwardly.

Officer Cejka spoke up. "Captain Renard? I didn't know they called you. Ms. Spiegel is our 911 caller."

"Really? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, honestly. I heard her yelling from the path, saw him drag her into the bushes and then I made the call. That's it."

Renard nodded absently. She certainly seemed fine. A bit tired perhaps, but certainly not injured. It even looked like she had fresh lip gloss.

"Ms. Spiegel, I just have one last question," Officer Cejka said. "In your call to 911 you asked for two ambulances, and you said that before mentioning police. How did you know to ask for ambulances?"

Mira shrugged. "I heard a blow; it seemed obvious."

"But why two?"

She shrugged again. "Better to be prepared."

Officer Cejka nodded but seemed skeptical. "And you're sure you didn't see anything after that?"

"I'm afraid not," Mira looked disappointed. "It didn't seem wise to get closer. I'm so sorry. I wish I could be more helpful. It happened so fast and I was kind of freaking out at the time."

Officer Cejka sighed. "No problem. That's understandable. Thank you so much for your time. I'll call you if I have any more questions, and you have my card. Sir." She nodded to Renard then walked over to their victim.

"You're sure you're okay?" Renard asked again.

She laughed a bit. "Yes, I'm fine honestly."

"I'm sorry your welcome to Portland has been so complicated."

"Oh, I'm not worried. Or put off! Life is a pretty weird thing most of the time. Though, this…" She put her hands up. "You know. I'm not going to go there. I think my run is officially over. So I'm going to pick up a drin—"

She was cut off by a loud sob from the victim. Officer Cejka was crouching next to the woman, letting her ramble.

"He—he changed! He turned into-into a—a—thing!"

"A thing?" Cejka said gently.

The woman nodded fiercely. "A monster!"

Baka. ¡Cállate! Mira was muttering to herself.

"What?" Renard asked.

Mira glanced up. "Oh, nothing. I just feel sorry for her."

"He had—scales! And," the woman fluttered her hands near her mouth, "teeth!"

Cejka waited a moment as the woman regained some composure. " Teeth?"

"Yes! Teeth—fangs! It was horrible. I know it's—crazy but… and then suddenly _she_ was there."

"She?" said Lieutenant Rogers, coming up behind Cejka. The ambulance had left with the suspect and he had come over.

"Are you saying there was another person involved?" Cejka pressed.

Mira sighed. "Shall we leave them to it?"

Renard glanced at her. She did look rather tired. "You were saying you wanted to get a drink? Did you have a place in mind? I could give you a lift."

"That would be lovely. Though, I didn't have anywhere particular in mind. It'd have to be someplace very casual." She gestured her running clothes. Renard noticed a dark speck on her nearly fluorescent running top. She must be chilly with the coat wrapped around her waist. He found himself reaching out and scratching at a speck. It didn't come off. Come to think of it, it looked an awful lot like… and her coat was tied inside out…

"Mira…?"

"—like a living mirror!" the woman cried. "I swear it's true. She was like an angel! Everything was shiny and… she was so _fast_. I hardly took a breath and then it was over and he was there on the ground… and she left."

Lieutenant Rogers and Officer Cejka shared a look. Renard sighed.

"Wait here," Renard whispered to Mira with a look at that meant he was serious. He walked over to the officers. "What have we got, Rogers?"

Rogers looked over, almost nonplussed. "Looks like there was a third person involved. Mrs. Sanchez reports a woman stepping between her and the suspect. But that's where it gets weird."

Cejka straightened up, frowning. "That's where it gets Portland," she muttered. Renard saw her glance at Mira.

Rogers continued. "Mrs. Sanchez claims that the suspect transformed into some kind of monster and that our mysterious third party also transformed but into some kind of angel."

"And then the angel beat the crap out of the monster?" Renard asked.

Cejka shook her head. "She seems a bit fuzzy—"

"A bit?" Rogers interjected.

Cejka continued. "If her timeline is to be believed the fight lasted about ten seconds."

Renard nodded thoughtfully. "Without a stop watch human perception of time is highly unreliable. How much of her report is influenced by her head injury?"

Cejka shrugged. "It's impossible to say, but potentially quite a bit, sir."

He nodded again. "Very well. For now I think it's clear there was a Good Samaritan involved, to whom we owe our gratitude for Mrs. Sanchez's safety. Follow up with her again when she's recovered. Maybe things will make more sense." He turned to leave then stopped. "For the record, whoever this Good Samaritan is, it'd be good for us to know. With such skills they could be involved with... unsavory characters. Start a file. But tracking them down isn't a priority. Don't sacrifice any other cases for this one."

He stepped away then turned back once more. "But do let me know if you come across any other incidents with this MO," he said quietly.

"Sir." They both replied.

Mira smiled as he approached. "Everything alright?"

"I think so. You still want that drink?"

"Oh, yes. My treat. As a thank you for the lift. But you get to pick the place."

Over the next week Mira went for back to Columbia Park to run four times. It was blessedly uneventful. Not that she'd really minded the excitement of Saturday, but it wasn't something she particularly wanted to repeat. The other walkers and runners were pleasant and friendly, for the most part. Early in the week it was fairly crowded, but then the clouds rolled in, the temperature dropped, and the crowd thinned. Some of that could be time of day, which changed depending on her class schedule.

She saw Sean twice that week. They kept it casual, meeting for lunch or coffee near the university. Most of their conversation was in French, and therefore overly simplistic. She wasn't sure why, but something was encouraging her to keep it that way. For now. He seemed to steer clear of deeper discussions and she had no reason to push. So she kept it fun and light. They talked about likes and dislikes and simple daily activities. She learned that Sean liked opera, red wine, Mediterranean seafood (but not American seafood), and his favorite dog was a French breed called a Cursinu.

Of course, all he really knew about her was that she spoke four languages, liked running, reading, and watching anime. Still, the prospect of more meaningful conversations was quite the motivator and her French was improving rapidly.

She turned onto the university parking lot and noticed a station wagon parked on the side street. It wasn't particularly remarkable, except that it had been parked less than a block from her house all day yesterday. And hadn't she seen it in front of Safeway two days ago?

She parked at the opposite end of the lot, rather far from her building, and took a circuitous route around the center of campus to approach her building from the back. Her office was simultaneously sparse and elegant, with a few touches revealing her inner fun-loving geek. Her first stop was the electric kettle in the corner and a mug of steaming _Genmaicha_. While her computer warmed up and synched all her apps she peeked out the window at the quad. Nothing seemed amiss, but she stayed just a few minutes to be sure. Students and professors strolled, strode, and sprinted down the various paths. Some lounged on park benches, others sat hunched over textbooks and tablets on the grass in the sunshine. Oh, and a few…

There! Almost across the quad but far to the right was a man with two companions. He wore an old hoodie, fraying at the cuffs and with a pizza sauce stain on the right elbow. The same stain she had noticed on the young man she had seen taking selfies at the park the other day. Every few words he, or one of his companions glanced up at her building. One of the companions wore a cheap fedora, also old with a distinctive striped tie wrapped around the crown. When Fedora scratched his ear, Mira noticed a hole near the third knuckle on the left fingerless knit glove. The same rip on the same glove with the same hat that had hovered in the coffee shop yesterday morning.

She stepped back from the window and thought hard. Perhaps it was nothing, but her instincts said this was definitely _not_ nothing. She was being watched. She quickly catalogued all the times she had seen anyone connected to the three outside. How many people were involved? Who were they with? What did they want? Could she prove she was being followed? Did she have enough evidence that didn't raise questions about unusual abilities? A normal person would need binoculars to see the details she had just seen. It was possible she could handle the situation, just like in the park last week. But she didn't know yet what she was dealing with. If she was being over confident there was a good chance they could find her in a dumpster in the morning. And even if she did manage to survive whatever these goons had in store there was a greater chance of… things getting out if they were handled the wrong way.

She pulled out her phone.

"Hi Sean. Actually, I have a favor to ask. I'm being followed. "


	6. SCENE 6 – The Chase

"What?" Captain Renard flipped open a notepad and began furiously scratching out details. A minute later he ripped a page out of his notebook. "Don't go anywhere. Lock the door. Don't open unless you're sure it's me _. Parce que je vais parler en français comme un dieu foutant! Pardon, pardon. Je serai là en quelques minutes."_

He stood up and stopped himself just inside his office door. Why was he so angry? This kind of thing happened all the time? He'd solved numerous stalking cases before. It was just part of the job. He took a deep breath and exited somewhat more calmly.

"Burkhardt, Griffin. Are you busy?"

The looked up from the computer. "Um... actually—"

"Good. Meet me at Romanaggi Hall at the University of Portland." He threw on his coat. "I just got a call from our interpreter friend. She's been followed all week and her office is being watched. "

He stalked out before they could answer, patently ignoring the looks that passed between his detectives.

A soft tap sounded on the door.

 _"Madmoiselle Mira, êtes-vous là? Il est Renard . Les hommes sont partis. Puis-je entrer?"_

 _"Êtes-vous sûr?_ _Comment est Charlie?"_ Mira replied. She heard a soft and surprised laugh on the other side of the door.

 _"Charlie se repose sous un arbre d'érable à Leon pendant vingt ans_."

She opened the door. "You're sure they're gone?"

He stepped into her office and she closed the door again.

"There's no one in the quad or near this building matching your descriptions, or acting at all suspicious. They could be in another building though, or they could come back. Do you have any more classes today?"

"No," she replied, crossing over to the desk. "Just grading today."

"And you have no idea who they are?" he asked stepping up to the other side of the desk.

She shook her head. "I could describe them, but I've never met them before so I don't have any names. Though…." She frowned. _No. It couldn't be. "_ Now that I think about it one of them did look a bit like that guy from the park last Saturday."

"Bill Weisman? The one who attacked Mrs. Sanchez? Was it the same man?"

Mira shook her head again. "No. I don't think so. But maybe a relative?" _Great, more wesen trouble. This was what she got for coming to a big city._

Renard glanced at his watch. "I'll look into it. It's getting late. We should get you out of here. I suggest you book a hotel for the night. We can escort you to your car and follow you there to make sure you're safe. I do not recommend that you go home."

Mira nodded. She started packing a bag with books and papers. "And what about tomorrow?"

"I can assign an officer to escort you wherever you need to go."

Mira sighed. This was not what she had hoped for. "Sean—Captain Renard, I have no objection to a body guard, but eventually you will need your officers for a real case not a what-if case. If these guys are smart they'll just wait you out. What happens long term?"

He stood there looking at her for a moment. "The only solution I can think of involves using you as bait. Probably tonight before they know we're onto them."

She took a deep breath. "You mean something like me heading for my car and you guys trailing far enough behind that it looks like I'm alone to see if they start following me?"

He nodded. "Precisely."

She took another deep breath. With some back up she was confident she would survive any attack, no matter what these goons actually were. Her worry was whether or not her secret would remain intact. What if the goons woged? How would Sean and his team react? Could they handle a group of wesen without her having to step in?

But the real question was if any other options were viable. She was coming up empty in that regard.

"Alright. Let's do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Just tonight on the way to the car. If nothing happens then we'll figure something else out."

Renard pulled out his phone but paused before placing the call. "For your sake I hope nothing does happen."

He stepped outside and pulled the door to, but not fully closed. She knew he meant it to be a private conversation, but with her hearing he might as well have been talking in her ear.

"Burkhardt, is Griffin with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We're going to try to draw them out."

"Ooookay."

"She's getting her things; then she'll head to her car. I'll trail straight behind, you two flank on either side."

"Sir, are you going to tell us what this is about? What are we dealing with?"

"I'm not sure. Be ready for anything?"

"Wesen anything or regular anything?" _Wesen?! They knew about wesen?_ A million questions flooded Mira's brain and she was suddenly wishing very strongly that she had not called Sean.

"It's possible this could be connected to the attack in the park last weekend. Ms. Spiegel was our 911 caller and only witness."

"The park? That Skalingeck that was practically taken apart?"

"It's possible one of our suspects here is related."

"So, wesen anything."

"Stay sharp." Renard said, and hung up.

Mira whirled to the window knowing her panic would show if he saw her face.

"Alright. My team is ready."

Mira took a deep breath. _Think! He knows about wesen and so does his team. He threw the cops off my trail at the park: intentional? Maybe. Trap? Possibly. Can I trust him? Was he wesen, or his team? What if one of them was a Grimm? That would be fitting for a police officer. He was so refined: what if he was…worse._

" _Are you alright?"_ he said in French.

 _One problem at a time. Play this one out. See where it goes_. Mira turned around, grabbing a last stack of papers and her purse.

"Oui. I'm just… fighting the lizard brain."

Renard frowned. "'The lizard brain?'"

"You know," she tried to smile, "fight or flight. Panic or solution. I just need to get out of here."

"Then let's go."

He led the way down to the main floor from her office. She found herself using every ounce of self-control not to panic. With this new twist she was—disappointingly—far more afraid of this police captain than the men outside. She was pretty confident she'd have survived their attacks. Most likely they were more Skalingecks. She had been so worried about her damn secret and now she'd potentially put that in far more danger than if she'd just followed her instincts. Just inside the front doors Renard motioned for her to stop and he made a call.

"Burkhardt," the other person said.

"We're in position. Are you set?"

"Yes, sir," came the enthusiastic reply. "Hank is by the corner of the library. I'm across the quad. If anyone comes after her we'll see them."

"Good," Renard replied. He looked at Mira. "Here she comes." He hung up. "Whenever you're ready. I'll be close behind you. Don't be surprised if I veer off a time or two. Just to make it look natural. Go straight to your car. No side trips. "

She nodded a few times. "Let's do this."

Renard was doing a very good job of not looking like he was following her. He was pretending to be on the phone a lot. She pulled a knit hat out of her bag and jammed it on. After years of practice a partial woge was easy and with the hat no one would notice her ears changing. Ah, as she suspected. There was no one on the phone with Renard. All an act. How sweet, he was pretending to talk to his mother.

She headed more or less straight towards her car. It had never seemed so far away. A fair number of students were still out in the quad, though most were on their way somewhere and not lingering. It was getting rather late and twilight had settled in.

Mira tried to look like a distracted victim. Normally this would be completely against her nature, which was to radiate confidence that belied her petite stature, but it came easily with as much concentration as she was putting into sorting through all the sounds she could hear. First she had to sort through all the student chatter, the squirrels and crows, and such. She was pretty sure she had picked out the footsteps of Renard's "team."

Behind her she heard Renard's phone ring. She hoped no one noticed it ringing in the middle of a sentence. He was far enough back that she couldn't hear the other speaker.

"How many? Seven?! Have they seen you? Hank? _Merde!"_

He started walking faster. She slowed down but kept walking. She stepped off the side walk onto the asphalt of the parking lot and looked up. Without thinking she shifted her partial woge, letting her ears return to normal and her eyes take on subtle changes. Though her car was four rows ahead she could clearly see three figures standing around it. A quick glance showed her three more scattered around the lot. That was at least six, but Renard had said seven. There must be another one somewhere. Seven wesen against three men, one of whom she cared about rather a lot she was surprised to realize, even though she wasn't sure anymore if he was safe to be with.

This was going to get out of hand. A shadow walked briskly out of the shadows on the right.

"…be careful!" Renard said, now close enough for her to hear normally. He sounded only slightly worried. She heard him hang up just as the new figure walked through a streetlight.

"Hank!" It was Detective Burkhardt. He was heading straight for her car. Two of the figures by the car turned towards the detective. The third turned the other way towards a disturbance near one of the other buildings. The last three all stepped out into the parking lot, most heading towards her.

The numbers were too uneven. She would have to fight if they were going to survive. Three cops didn't stand a chance against seven wesen. Was that detective pulling out a crossbow? Irrelevant. She couldn't fight here. Not in the open and certainly not in front of these men.

Her woge shifted. Her eye sight blurred somewhat and her legs… changed. She could no longer see what Burkhardt was doing, though it was hard to miss the two wesen running towards him. She dropped her bag and sprinted left.

"Mira! Wait!" Renard called but she was already gone. Though she couldn't hear them she could sense that she was being followed. She hoped Renard and the others would be okay. Most of the wesen would follow her, hopefully. She was the one they were after.

She rounded a corner and a figure lunged at her. _There's number seven_ , she thought dodging around his clumsy swings. She hamstrung his right leg as she wove past and kept running. _That's my trusty pocket knife_ she thought, sheathing razor sharp finger nails.

A blow to the shoulder knocked her off her feet. Her left elbow hit hard, but she rolled back up and spat in the face of the Skalingeck looming over her. He fell back screaming and holding his eyes. Well, he wouldn't have those for long. _And the out-of-date black market pepper spray_. She felt the acid glands fade away inside her mouth.

She kept running. Rounding the corner of St Mary's she saw a scuffle ahead. Not even waiting to register who it was she veered to the right. Two more figures ran in from the side. _There are way more than seven_ , she realized. They leaped to tackle her. She ducked then reached out with both hands, barely touching each of them and sending massive electrical shocks. _Taser. I need to pick up a Taser._

Just as she leapt up three more figures rounded the other corner of the chapel. She looked back and two more were racing up from behind. They were too close! She fled into the chapel.

She had been in here once, shortly after joining the university. It was a beautiful building, though rather modern for her tastes. She fled through the sanctuary and out a back door, looking for a place to hide. She only had seconds, and they would catch her. She ducked into an open door, vaguely registering it as a small library and realized she'd made a wrong turn. There was no exit. Wait! Window!

Her skin rippled and then her scream shattered the glass. She grabbed the frame to climb out ignoring the shards digging into her pam. But she couldn't ignore the hand that grabbed her arm and flung her back into the room and against a desk. Her head hit rather hard.

"Gotcha!" growled a keep voice.

 _Hundjager. Klaustrike. Three Skalingecks_. _Shit_. She slid to a crouch looking up at the figures looming over her.

One of the Skalingeck s hissed. "You're going to regret messing with my brother."

"What is this?" she said. "Some kind of gang? Since when to Klaustrikes help skulking Skalingecks." The Klaustrike rolled his shoulder and growled. "And maybe your brother shouldn't mess with innocent women," she spat.

"Innocent?!" One of the other Skalingecks hissed. "You know nothing about it."

She started to stand but the Hundjager kicked her before she moved two inches. Gosh, she hoped that didn't crack a tooth. Bones were a lot harder to heal than flesh wounds.

"Enough," said a commanding voice from the doorway. The wesen turned and Mira looked up to see Captain Renard standing in the doorway. He didn't seem the least disturbed by five wesen in full woge.

 _Shit! What is he doing! The idiot is going to get himself killed right in front of me!_

"I am willing to make you all an offer, which I will only extend once." He calmly peeled off his coat, which looked like it had a few rips in it. "Walk away, right now."

"Or what?" said the Klaustrike, stepping forward. "You're going to arrest us?" he mocked.

Renard unbuttoned his cuffs. "Ms Spiegel, I suggest you close your eyes."

But of course, she couldn't. She had to help, she couldn't just— _oh, God!_

Renard straightened up, shaking away the beast inside. He took a few deep breaths. His suit was ruined, of course.

A rustling made him look over. Mira was standing up. She was favoring her right leg and clutching her left elbow. There was blood smeared on her hands and face but he didn't know whose. Worse though was that she was staring at him wide eyed and knowingly. He sighed, feeling any chance of a future with her slipping away…

"You are injured," he said.

"I'll be alright. It'll heal," she replied. Her voice sounded rather hollow. "How did you find me?"

"I saw them enter the chapel, and then I heard a scream."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He took another deep breath. "You have good instincts. I was afraid you were going to walk straight into them. I tried to catch up with you without tipping them off."

She sighed. "I'm sorry to have dragged you into this. It was much bigger than I thought."

"Then it's a good thing you did drag me into it." He was wondering how to tackle the elephant in the room.

"What story will you tell?" she said instead.

Not the question he was expecting. "I'll think of something. Probably a gang war."

She nodded. "That would do it."

There was a long silence.

"So—"

"So—"

"Go ahead," Mira said.

"No, please," Renard insisted. Most humans were deeply unsettled by a zauberbeist woge; he would rather let her start this conversation.

Mira let it sit a moment to make sure he was serious. She cleared her throat. "You're Zauberbeist."

Renard blinked. How did she know that word? He'd expected something along the lines of 'zombie.'

"Yes," he said with forced calm.

"I confess I did not see that one coming, "she finished.

"Nor I," he added. He thought furiously. What all had he told her over the past weeks? She recognized his type but was surprised, or at least feigning surprise. "Clearly we have underestimated each other.'

"Clearly," she echoed.

"You know about wesen." He said it calmly, like a card play.

She nodded.

He looked away then back, bringing his hands to rest on his hips. "How?"

She shook her head. In fact her whole body shook. How much blood had she lost anyway? She licked her lips. The poor woman looked frightened half to death.

"I can see you're not a Grimm." He went on. "Though that would have made sense with that trail of injuries you left outside. Did you know a Grimm? Are you a wesen?"

Again she shook her head and swayed. Far away in the chapel they could hear Burkhardt calling for Renard.

Renard stepped towards her. "Mira, tell me what's going on. Why are these men after you? It can't just be because you made a 911 call."

She swayed again and he held her shoulders, bending down to look into her eyes. "Please, Mira. I need to know."

A tear rolled down her cheek. "I... I can't… it's so, SO complicated. I need to think. I have to know if it's safe. If you are safe."

He frowned. "What do you mean, 'If I am safe?' Are you saying I'm in danger somehow? From who?"

Again she shook her head as though it were all too much. "No, not that. I meant… " She looked up at him. "I need to know if you are safe _for me._ If I can trust you."

He straightened up.

She continued. "It may be best if we… forget it. Forget everything."

She straightened and moved to step past him but almost fell, grabbing his arm for balance.

"We need to get you to a hospital. We can talk about this later."

"No hospitals," she said, breathing heavily. "I'll be fine, just take me home."

Footsteps ran up from the hallway. "Sir! Are you alright," Nick didn't even glance at the bodies on the floor.

"Damn!" said Hank, walking in behind Nick.

"I'm fine," said Renard. "But she needs a hospital."

"No!" she said, firmly. "No hospitals. No doctors. Just take me home." She nearly fainted then.

Renard scooped her up.

"Call Rosalie. She needs help."

###

Renard carefully strapped Mira into the back seat of his car, lying down. On the way to the shop he went over again every conversation they'd had, everything he has learned from her background. There had been no hints that he could pick up about how she was connected to the— _what the hell?_

A blue shimmery light flooded through the car interior, like a light shining from deep under water. He glanced back. He couldn't see her face; she was laying the wrong way. But her skin was glowing and rippling.

He drove faster.


	7. SCENE 7 – At the Spice Shop

"What are we dealing with?" asked Rosalie.

Renard laid Mira on the couch. She had passed out during the drive. "I have no idea. She recognized me."

Everyone jerked to look at him. "You mean…" Nick said leadingly.

Renard nodded. "There were five of them about to kill her. I had to."

"So what is she?" Nick pressed. Rosalie started looking her over.

"I have no idea," Renard went on. "Not a Grimm, that's for sure. I didn't see her woge. I asked her how she knew about wesen but she clammed up. She was very worried about it not being safe. Her skin started glowing on the way over, almost like a Glühenvolk. But there is no way a Glühenvolk would have lasted so long in the chase, particularly not while inflicting the amount of damage that she did."

They all quieted, watching Rosalie check her over. Finally Rosalie straightened up. "Monroe, could go start some tea, a nice big pot."

"Anything for you." He kissed her and headed towards the kettle.

"So?" Renard asked Rosalie.

"Well, I don't know what she is. She's not hexenbeist: she doesn't have the mark. Nor does she have any other injuries, either."

Renard blinked. "That's not possible."

"It's true. There isn't a scratch on her that I can see, or broken bones, or even bruises. You three, on the other hand, need some fixing up."

She started gathering jars of ointment and bandages.

"Hold on," said Nick. "We were ambushed by 13 wesen tonight. Thirteen of them, all chasing after her, she passes out from injuries, and you're telling us she doesn't have a scratch."

"Yes," said Rosalie. She spun around and smeared ointment on Nick's face.

"Ow!"

"Shush, ya big baby."

Mira slowly drifted back to consciousness.

"Juliette's on her way" said a far-away voice. _Who was Juliette?_ " ...Chinese food."

Food would be good. Healing always took so much energy.

"… knows we were there. Anonymous caller… gangs." Multiple voices. One of them made her smile. Then the image of a face, changing, skin sloughing off… She shuddered. Where was she?

Her eyes flickered open.

"Shhh! She's awake,"

A sweet face entered her field of vision. "Hi there, Mira, is it?" said a soft voice. "It's okay. You're perfectly safe. My name is Rosalie. How do you feel?"

Mira shifted onto her side and slowly sat up. "Mmmm. I have a killer headache."

Rosalie nodded. "I'm not surprised. I'm told you had a rough night. Would you like some tea?"

"Uh… " Tea would be amazing. Wait!

"I have some herbal licorice tea. It's calming but will also help you wake up a bit. "

"Maybe. First tell me where I am. And who are you?"

The woman, Rosalie, took a seat on the couch. "It's okay. I'm a friend of Captain Renard's. You're in my tea and spice shop. I use natural remedies for all kinds of unusual problems. You passed out at the University. Sean brought you here; he was very worried you might be badly injured. But you seem to be fine, aside from that headache.

Mira sat up farther, looking around the shop. There were a few unusual and archaic devices and books clearly visible even from where she was sitting. Some people might think them just ornamental, but for those who knew… "Is this a wesen shop?"

Rosalie nodded and smiled. "Yes. I help all kinds of wesen."

Mira looked around again. "That's a first."

Rosalie patted her knee. "Well, how about that tea?"

Mira nodded. Rosalie stood and Mira grabbed her hand. "Wait. Is Sean here?"

"Yes. He, Nick, and Monroe, my husband, are just in the other room."

"Oh," Mira said. "Actually, would you mind… is there a back door?"

Rosalie sat down again. "You want to leave? Without saying anything?"

"Please. I can't explain. I know it doesn't seem fair, but I can't talk to them tonight. I need to figure things out before there are awkward questions."

Rosalie frowned, but it was a very understanding frown. "You really shouldn't be going anywhere soon; certainly not alone. But I can tell them you aren't allowed to answer questions tonight.

Before Mira had time to think about that a tall man in a very ugly sweater stepped into the room from what she guessed was a back hallway. "Here you are, ladies! Two mugs of perfect licorice tea. Guaranteed to … ah… I have no idea. But here."

Rosalie looked at the man with the sweetest expression Mira had ever seen. "Oh, thank you, love! You read my mind. Monroe, come meet Mira."

Monroe handed Rosalie a mug then held the other out to Mira. "Pleasure to meet you! Welcome."

"Mira, this is my husband, Monroe."

"Hello," she said, taking the mug gingerly.

Another figure stepped in from the main shop—Detective Burkhardt—followed by Renard. "How are you feeling?" the detective sounded so sincere. What was his role in all this?

"I'm just tired. Really. I just need to go home and rest."

Renard opened his mouth but Rosalie interjected.

"A-a-a! No questions tonight. She's going to be fine, but she is worn out. We need to figure out a safe place for tonight and tomorrow we can think about what happens next."

Mira frowned. "What do you—"

A door in the other room slammed open. "Nick!" a woman yelled.

"In here," Burkhardt said, turning. A tall, thin woman with dark red hair sped around the corner breathing heavily. She unceremoniously dropped a large bag of Chinese food into the corner.

"The shop is surrounded. There are at least ten men watching this place all around the street."

"What?" said several people.

"I saw them as I was walking in. I sealed the door with a protection spell. They aren't getting in that way."

"Were any of them woged?" Nick asked. "Did you recognize them?"

She shook her head. "No. but just from clothes and…" she struggled to find the right word, "..things we may have several types."

"Aw, shit!" Monroe swore.

Mira put her head in her hands. _God, this is all my fault!_

A pounding sounded on the front door. "Open up!" shouted a gruff voice. "Bring out the fairy!" said another voice.

"Did he just say 'fairy?'" Monroe asked.

Sean whipped out his phone. "I'm calling for back up."

"Monroe," Nick said authoritatively, "We'll go around from the back. Rosalie, stay with her."

"What about me?" the new woman asked.

"Stay here with Rosalie and Mira.

"Who—" the woman cut off seeing Mira. She blinked. "No problem."

Rosalie nodded. "They won't get through us."

Sean hung up the phone. "I'm coming with you," he said to Burkhardt while rolling up his sleeves.

"Sir," Nick said questioningly. "That's a busy street late at night. People could be watching."

Sean woged. "Let them watch." He growled and stormed out the back hall.

Monroe looked at Nick with wide eyes. "Well, he's strung up about something." He shuddered and woged into... a Blutbad? Since when did they fight side by side with Zauberbeist? "Shall we?"

"Oh, after you," said Burkhardt.

They also hurried out the back.

"Oh, god," Mira said out loud. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault." She fought back sobs.

"How is it her fault?" the new woman said gently.

Rosalie put an arm around Mira's shoulders. "Mira called Sean today to report that she was being followed. He, Nick, and Hank went to escort her to a hotel to lay low and they were ambushed. Thirteen wesen!"

The woman crossed over and sat in a chair opposite the couch. "Yikes. Bad day. And I take it she….?"

Mira felt Rosalie shrug. There were some interesting sounds coming from outside. "She saw Sean woge. He, uh, got a bit protective."

"Oh," said the woman in a tone that said all the things she didn't say.

"He says she wasn't surprised but… we don't know anything else."

"So do we think these are some of the same group?"

"No idea," Rosalie replied.

Mira took a deep breath and looked up. The woman frowned at her for a second then smiled, holding out a hand. "I'm Juliette. Nick's wife. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."

Mira took her hand briefly. "Mira Speigel. I'm so sorry."

"How do you know Sean?" Juliette asked.

Rosalie sent her a glare. "I just told the guys she's not allowed to answer questions tonight!"

"Oh, sorry!" Juliette said, much abashed.

"It's fine," Mira interjected, tiredly. "I'm an interpreter. I helped on a case a few weeks back. We've been running into each other since then." She glanced up at the window, but she could feel the glance the two women shared. "Do you think we should help them?" She asked.

The all looked at the window, through which screams were clearly audible. The two women shook their heads. Juliette shifted uncomfortably. "With all three of them out there? They should be fine."

Mira swallowed. "Uh… not to sound impertinent, but you said there were a lot of guys out there, and with just a zauberbeist and a blutbad…" she trailed off, realizing she didn't know what these two women could do to help anyway, so why was she asking them?

They shared another look. Juliette cleared her throat. "She doesn't know about Nick?" Juliette asked. Rosalie shook her head.

"Why? What is Nick?" Mira asked, worried. This was getting SO complicated.

Juliette took a deep breath. "Nick is a brave man. He is kind, generous, clever, selfless, loving, and really protective. If he thinks protecting you is the right thing to do then he will do it, no matter what happens or what it takes."

Mira blinked at her.

"He is a good man," Rosalie added emphatically.

"He is also," Juliette said holding out a calming hand, "a Grimm."

Mira felt her eyes go wide and her skin ripple. It was all she could do not to let a woge out. She couldn't swear that something may not have shown anyway. "That man," she breathed, "is a Grimm?"

They nodded.

"You let a Grimm into your wesen shop?" she snarled at Rosalie. "You let him around your husband?!" She stood up angrily. "Do you lure wesen here with remedies then send them to _him_?"

"What? No! Nick is our friend," Rosalie protested.

"He is a good man," Juliette said again, also standing up. "Monroe is his best friend."

"He's saved Monroe's life over a dozen times, and mine" Rosalie added.

Mira backed up to a wall shaking her head. "This is some kind of trick. Stay back!" _Oh no! Sean was out there with that Grimm._ That was even worse than if Sean found out what she was and… well, that line of thinking would going to lead to dark places. She had to help Sean!

Three wesen burst into the room from the back hall. Before she could blink Rosalie woged into a Fuchsbau and launched at the foremost attacker. _A Fuchsbau? But her husband is …._

Three shots rang out; Mira glanced over to see Juliette holding out a handgun. A second attacker fell. The third lunged at Mira.

Mira felt her skin ripple, though she had done nothing to cause it. O _h, shit! What the heck? Not now!_ The attacker stopped in midair and was suddenly flung against a far wall.

Mira's head split with pain. She felt a wave of power shoot out of her, shattering the window, and her jaw unhinged, falling low. How could this be happening?

Juliette stepped up and tapped two more shots into the third attacker. She turned around and un woged.

Mira returned to normal. Rosalie stood up. There was blood all down her front. She and Juliette were both looking at her. They had both seen.

"You're a hexenbeist, too?" Juliette said mildly. Rosalie shook her head.

"She doesn't have the mark. She can't be."

Mira took a deep breath. "You," she said to Juliette, "Are _not_ a hexenbeist. You can't be."

Juliette straightened, putting away the handgun. "I didn't use to be. Nick's powers were taken. He needed them back to protect Monroe and Rosalie. This," she pointed at a mug of tea which hovered into the air and shot into her hand, "was a side-effect of getting them back."

Mira relaxed. Slightly. "How recently?"

"Six months," said Rosalie.

"And you already have that much control?" asked Mira, skeptically.

Juliette nodded, even smiled a little, though she looked far from comfortable. "I wanted to get rid of it at first. But it allows me to help Nick, to be part of his life. So I learned."

"And we helped," said Rosalie.

"And you," said Mira. "You are a Fuchsbau. But Monroe is … not a Fuchsbau."

The two women shared another look.

"Yes," said Rosalie. "Monroe is the best man I have ever met. All respect to Nick, of course," she said jokingly to Juliette.

She turned back to Juliette. "And does your Grimm know what you are now?"

"Of course he does."

Mira frowned. "Aren't you worried he's going to cut your head off? That's what Grimm's do best, right?"

"You might be confusing Grimms with Reapers," Rosallie suggested mildly.

Juliette sighed, exasperated. But her voice was not unkind. "I know there's a lot of bad blood between Grimms and most wesen. But not here in Portland. Nick protects them. He fights for them."

"As long as they obey the law," Rosalie interjected.

Juliette continued. "Some wesen are too prejudiced to see past Nick's title."

"Prejudiced?!" Mira said.

"If you let him he will help you. But if you hurt him, I will kill you." She woged in and out. This time Mira didn't woge. She wasn't sure whether or not that was a good sign.

Sirens sounded outside. A door in back banged open and shut. Sean and Monroe walked in. somewhat the worse for wear.

"Oh, this is lovely," said Monroe, looking at the three bodies. "Everyone alright?" he looked around. "Well, clearly alright is relative. I'll just drag these goons outside for the ride to the mortuary." He hefted one over each shoulder and left.

"How's Nick?" Juliet asked.

Sean ran a hand through his hair, pulling out debris. "He's fine. He's clearing things out with the police who arrived for cleanup. I thought it best they didn't know I was here. Turns out we had a hexenbeist outside. She managed to create a spell to get all these goons to attack for her." He looked over at Mira. "She was desperate to get at you."

Mira swallowed. "And is she…?"

"She's dead," said Nick striding in. He walked across the room and gave Juliette a passionate kiss. "I think we managed to leave half a dozen alive. More gang stories?" he said to Renard.

Renard nodded. "I think so. We'll incorporate it into the university attack."

Nick looked over at Mira and shifted uncomfortably. She was staring daggers at him. He glanced around at Juliet and Rosalie. "Was everything okay in here?" he glanced down at the last wesen body.

"Yes," said Rosalie.

Nick looked pointedly at Mira and her death glare. "Are you sure?" he said, laughing and turning to Juliet.

Juliette took a breath. "Mira was worried about whether the three of you could handle things, so I told her about you."

"Oh," he said casually. He turned to Mira. "Well, now you know one of the secrets of our little group."

"Three, actually," said Rosalie.

"No, four," said Juliette.

Nick glanced around as Monroe came back in. "So we're running out of secrets that she doesn't know."

Mira huffed. "For all you call them 'secrets' you aren't exactly secretive about anything." No one said anything for a moment. "Now what?"

Everyone looked around at everyone else.

"Chinese food?" asked Monroe.

There was a general murmur of assent and Monroe left to get plates. "Whoa whoa whoa!" Mira said. Everyone stopped and looked at her. "Sorry, can someone please explain this? Your shop is attacked by a gang controlled by a hexenbeist trying to get at a stranger who was dumped on your couch by the police, and after a _Grimm_ helps you chase them off you just sit down and eat _Chinese food?!"_

Nick started laughing and soon everyone was joining in.

"Man," Nick said, "put like that our lives sound pretty weird."

"Our lives are pretty weird," said Juliette grabbing the bag of food and dragging it to the coffee table.

"True!" Nick replied.

Rosalie started opening all the to-go boxes. "You two are too adorable to be allowed."

"Speak for yourself!" said Juliette playfully.

"Are we really doing this?" Mira asked.

Sean walked over to her from where he had been lurking in the shadows. "Yes, we are. Dig in. When you're ready we'll take you somewhere safe for the night. I hope that after taking out that hexenbeist all this will be over, but we'll need you to stay out of sight for a few days until we're sure."

Mira crossed her arms, uncomfortable. "And where is 'safe?'"


	8. SCENE 8 – Mirror Mirror

"Here is a delicious Cab you have got to try," Monroe said. He had a small glass of wine in each hand.

Rosalie took one of them with a large smile. "Thank you SO much! You are a wonderful man."

"I know," he answered with a laugh.

They collapsed on the couch together with identical sighs. A cuckoo clock began to chime, then another, and another. They sat for a few minutes just enjoying the chorus of chimes and bells and dancing wooden figurines.

"So," Monroe began after another satisfied sigh. "How's our guest?"

"Tired. A little banged up. But she'll be fine." Rosalie snugged up to Monroe's side.

"Any reason to be worried?" he said lightly.

"None that I can see."

He nodded. "Okay. Out of curiosity—"

"When she's ready for us to know who and what she is, she'll tell us," Rosalie said with finality.

He nodded again. "Okay! Okay. Just curious." He took another sip of his wine. "But you do have an idea?" Rosalie punched his shoulder playfully. "Oww!"

"Don't be so pushy!" But she smiled at him delightedly. "Of course I have an idea, and if I'm right I'm not at all surprised she's nervous. We don't need to know who and what everyone is."

"Well," Monroe said, "As long as we're sure they're not Wesenrein or Verrat or working for the Royals or anyone else otherwise interested in killing us in our sleep…"

She punched him again. "She's fine."

"Long as you're sure."

"Drink your wine. Then, you can take your exhausted wife to the bedroom…."

Renard paced his living room. He'd poured a glass of Talisker but had yet to touch it. First, he needed to think.

He played through the events of the day—yesterday, now—in his mind for the twelfth time. Or was it the thirteenth? There were several points about which he was not satisfied. Not so much with his actions—he was a police captain, after all. He would have gone to help anyone who said they were being stalked. Wouldn't he? Hmm. Perhaps not. Would he normally send a unit? That sounded much more like him. Why had he insisted on going himself? And why grab Burkhardt and Griffin, who he knew were working on the Kaulkins case? Any unit would have worked.

Well, clearly not. A normal unit would have been obliterated. Had he known that somehow? How had he known this was one of 'those' cases? Instinct? If so, his instincts were so good he was almost jealous of them.

He took a drink of the Talisker and tried to relax, think through it rationally. What was her connection to wesen?

 _Fairy…lights… 'Au revoir'…'wise to get closer'… wesen…glimmer…'Are you French?'…a speck on her jacket…'three different ways'…'doesn't have the mark'…'living mirror'…flash of light…'I'm fine'…'not a scratch'…'zauberbeist'…'So complicated'… a silver light…_

Why had he gotten so worked up about her being followed? That was the center of his distress. Why did she have him so agitated?

 _'Summimasen!'… glimmer…'the sunshine is so beautiful'… turned the cup three times…'six weeks' …smile…'bigger than just Tokyo'…he laughed…'Gomen!'…each time she held the cup…'I'm a blank slate'… reading in the sunshine…'Do you go there often? I sometimes find myself there?' …made the call…'A challenge!' … 'It is a rare thing'… shimmer…'Call me, Mira'…Mira…_


	9. SCENE 9 - Safe

Nick walked her through the locking mechanism on the beautiful wrought iron shutters he'd had installed on her windows. It was an archaic device, but effective.

"And here's a list of all the install points for the panic button to contact Hank if you notice anything odd."

"Yes, okay," she said, taking the list.

"And there's a second deadbolt on all the doors, and the doors are reinforced with rebar," Nick continued.

"Got it." She nodded. How long was this going to take?

"Your alarm code is 1066 for now, but you can reprogram it. And you can review the video footage from the app, and send anything weird to the precinct-"

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Detective Burkhardt. You and Hank have been absolutely wonderful and I feel very safe and protected! I will reach out if anything 'weird' happens. I promise. At the moment, I would really like a bubble bath though."

Hank chuckled.

Nick glanced at the stack of manuals. "Right. Well. I guess that's it. Uh… enjoy your bath. And—"

"Call you if anything happens! I know!" She laughed despite herself. He was a Grimm, which was unforgiveable. But he was just so… normal. It was sometimes hard to remember that he was as much the enemy as the ones hunting her. Well, maybe not "as much."

She watched them cross the driveway, knowing they'd listened to hear her close all the deadbolts.

Her first evening with Monroe and Rosalie, the two cops had stopped by to talk about security measures. With her permission –given in as few words as possible to the Grimm—they went to her house and installed not only an alarm system, but also a video monitoring system, panic button, wrought iron shutters, and extra deadbolts that opened either by thumbprint or a passcode entered via phone app. She suspected Juliette had a hand in selecting the iron grilles, as they were far too stylish for the men to have picked out.

She added drops of lavender, rosewood, ylang ylang, and pine oils to the bath, then settled in with a sigh.

Now, she thought, what to do about Sean?


	10. SCENE 10 - Die Schöne und das Biest

It was Saturday afternoon. The leaves had turned. The sun was almost setting. And it was just two weeks since a would-be rapist had been apprehended in Columbia Park.

Mira entered the park, walking slowly. She was later than she'd planned, but for some reason her feet had been hesitant to turn towards the park. At least she was here now.

When she reached the cottage she paused and looked off into the copse of bushes, where the Skalingeck had dragged that woman, Mrs. Sanchez. If only she'd stayed out of it! If she'd just made the call and stayed put things could have stayed simple. Normal.

She shook her head. No, she could never have done that. No matter what price she paid for it, it had been worth it.

"I thought you might come here."

Mira looked up to see Sean approaching from the parking lot. She sighed. He was the last person she wanted to see right now, but she was also strangely relieved. _Time to get this over with_.

He joined her and looked at the bushes. "You did a good thing there."

She frowned, "I just—"

"I know what you did," he said with a small smile. "You're secret is safe with me." He gestured down the path. "Walk with me?"

Mira debated for a minute. On the one hand, he could be planning to get her alone and harvest her liver, if he had figured out what she was. Or… maybe he just wanted a walk. Walking would be better than just standing here though. She nodded and started walking slowly.

"You have been avoiding me."

"Yes," she said quietly. They'd had a date already scheduled early in the week before the craziness of last weekend. She had still been staying with Rosalie when she cancelled. She'd claimed it was stress, but it had been more than that. He'd called or texted every day since; sometimes just to ask if she was okay, but usually asking if she wanted to meet for coffee, or dinner, or—anything. She'd stopped replying.

"I have no right to demand an explanation, though of course, I am—well, curious doesn't quite cover it."

He stopped. They'd only walked a dozen yards to so. He turned and looked down at her. A silver glimmer flickered over her face. He'd finally realized that was a feature of her nature and not happenstance.

"Mira, _vous enchanté mon cœur dans tous les sens_. _Je ai aimé, mais pas comme ça_." He paused. " _Comprenez vous?"_ (You enchant my heart in every way. I have loved, but not like this. Do you understand?)

Mira blinked. She did understand. This was not what she had expected, though a part of her had wished… Hoping this meant she didn't have to fear for her liver, she nodded.

He smiled. _"Merci. Le français est tellement plus approprié."_ (Thank you. French is so much more suitable.) Then he sighed. " _Mais…_ You said, in the chapel, that you were not sure if I am safe for you. I won't lie; I have a lot of enemies. Many people I care about have wound up hurt, or sometimes dead. It is not my intention that  any of that should happen to you, but I can't promise it won't…" he trailed off as he realized she was chuckling and mumbling to herself.

"そうでわない" She put a hand on his arm and collected herself. "It is not people you know who concern me." _Other than maybe that Grimm._

He frowned at her for a moment. "Then what…" he started, incredulous. After a moment Sean looked up and around the park. "This is because I'm Zauberbeist, isn't it?"

She took a deep breath and suppressed her nervous habit of chewing on a lip. She just didn't know how to phrase this. "Mostly. We rarely mix well."

He stared at her for a good long while, either trying to fit the pieces together or figure out how to respond. Eventually, he sighed. "Mira. I know most people find us… unpleasant. If it matters, I'm only half zauberbeist; my father was human. I'm grateful that you know what I am, and that you can handle yourself. It is rather a relief."

He help up a hand to stop her from interrupting. "Please let me finish. I said I'm curious and that's true. But that's not why I'm here. I'm grateful that you know about this world because it means I have nothing to hide. And I don't want to hide anything from you, Mira."

He reached down and took one of her hands.

"As far as I know, you could be a plant sent to assassinate me."

She blinked. Assassinate him? What? Well, that explained a few things.

"Some of my enemies are that motivated that resourceful," he continued. "I've decided that's a risk I'm willing to accept. I think there's a good chance that I could fall in love with you, if you'd let me. I don't know if that's what you want, but I believe you were enjoying our times together until all the wesen complications arose. I don't want that to end. If you are willing to give it a shot, I'd like to go back to that—to coffee and French lessons—and leave the wesen world aside for a while. My curiosity will wait as long as you need."

Mira wasn't entirely sure what to think.

 _Oh, come on! Can you ask for more than that? Really? Yes, actually. He can say that knowing what I really am. Then why don't you tell him? Because he might harvest my liver! You really think he's going to harvest your liver? Really?_ _まったく_ _! He might! We just don't know! He's already saved your life at least three times. I know, but— You really are just too much. I need some wine. Wine would be very helpful right now._

"That I can do," he said suddenly.

Mira blinked. "Uh… sorry, what?"

"Wine. I actually have a Noir in the car." He stuck a hand in his pocket, jingling his car keys. "And a corkscrew."

Mira frowned. "How much of that did I say out loud?"

"I have no idea," he replied, chuckling. "Only the last bit was English."

"Oh."

They stood there looking at each other for an awkward minute.

"So, should I get the wine?"

"Why don't we go to my place," she offered.

###

 _All of this security means nothing if he decides to harvest you—SHUT UP! I don't care. Sure you don't, right up until—STOP IT. All Nick's hard work and you just invite the enemy inside. As If I care about the Grimm's time? Which side are you arguing now? I don't know; both of them! Now seriously, shut up; I'm drinking wine! Fair enough._

The merry debate started going round and round in her head from the moment they turned towards Sean's car. Sean kept up a cheery stream of small talk which had a very calming effect. 'How are your classes?' 'Your students sound delightful.' 'You've decorated beautifully.' 'You really should look up Rusalka; it's a beautiful opera.'

Sean poured the wine and Mira led the way into the sitting room. He seemed to sense that her mood and let the small talk evaporate.

Placing her wine glass on the table she opened an ornately carved maple armoire in one corner. Inside sat an old fashioned turn table and a collection of vinyls. She selected one and started an album of German ballads. Returning to the couch she carried a small wooden box. It looked like something one would find in Monroe's house.

Mira placed the box on the coffee table and sat in the easy chair across from Sean, who was seated on the couch. With many pauses, she told an all too familiar story.

"This," she said, opening the box, "was my great grandmother's." She pulled out a large silver locket [C1] with a long, thick chain. Inside was a small glass cylinder with a lock of pure black hair with one streak of silver. "And this was my great grandfather's. He was killed by a Grimm before her eyes. My great grandmother avenged him, but then she immigrated to America; she couldn't stay in Germany anymore.

She took a deep breath. "He was Zauberbeist. It's quite the love story. A hexenbeist matriarch had sent him after my great grandmother, Saedie Baetcher. Instead of killing her, he fell in love. He helped her escape and hid her in this tiny town in the Black Forest. For twenty years they were incredibly happy."

" _Die Schöne und das Biest_. Beauty and the Beast in the flesh?" he suggested.

"Something like that. It's a very rare story in our history. Encounters between our kinds more often end with one or the other dead."

She let that sit for a while. Sean eventually took a long sip of wine. "Go on," he said finally.

"Some say we are natural enemies. It's easy to see why—" Realizing she was beating around the bush she stopped suddenly. Taking a long sip of wine she steadied herself. "When our kinds meet someone ends up dead because, most often, the hexenbeist, or zauberbeist, attempts to harvest us."

Mira stared at her wine for a minute.

"To 'harvest' you?" he asked, frowning.

She nodded. "We…" She squirmed. _Here goes nothing!_ _頑張って_ _!_ "We have a unique physiology among wesen. We are also fairly rare: we tend not to procreate much and our wesen nature doesn't always pass to all children, or even all generations." She took a deep breath. "Apparently there are several …parts that are key ingredients in some very powerful spells."

Mira buried her face in her wine glass, taking another long sip.

Sean set down his wine glass. He reached to take her hand, but at the last moment he merely held his out for her take.

She looked at the hand, then back up at the mixture of sad determination in his eyes. She hesitantly placed her hand in his. He drew her hand up and brushed her knuckles with his lips. He looked up at her.

"If I ever cause you more harm than this, please feel free to rip out my heart. I know you could."

She took back her hand, processing this twist. Unexpectedly she chuckled. "That may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

He nodded and raised his glass, "You're welcome." He took a sip. "And to be absolutely clear, I do not generally practice magic or tend to associate with those who do, my own mother excepting. I have no interest in harvesting any part of you, or will I. Ever. And as far as I can help it no one ever will. Oh, about my mother, who does practice magic, she would adore you and would never harm you in any way—unless you are actually an assassin and off me in my sleep. In which case… well. We know how that story ends."

Despite herself Mira laughed, almost spilling wine all over the carpet. "We are a pair, aren't we? And, to be absolutely clear, I do not practice assassination. Though, speaking of secrets, why on earth would someone want to assassinate a Portland Police Captain?"

Renard stared at her over his wine glass. "You… you really don't know?"

"Other than you are a Portland Police Captain named Sean Renard who is also a half Zauberbeist? Should I?" She smiled as if he were joking. One glance at his face though told her than he definitely was not joking.

He took a deep breath and set the wine glass down again. "My mother, as I have noted, is a hexenbeist. My father was human, but not just any human. My father is King Frederick."

Mira sat frozen for a full ten seconds. "Oh my God," she finally forced out. "That—that means. You—are the b-" she cut herself off, realizing was she was about to say.

He nodded understandingly. "The Bastard Prince, yes. At your service."

She looked down at the wine glass for a moment, then back up at him. "Are you serious? This isn't a joke?"

He shook his head. "No joking whatsoever."

"哇，我谈恋爱了王子! / なんだよ! 私は王子とデートしちゃった! _Merde!_ " She looked up at him. "What the hell are you doing in Portland?"

He shrugged. "Originally, lying low, staying out of the way. Now, protecting wesen, raising and protecting a Grimm, and supporting the Laufer. You're sure you had no idea who I was?"

"Absolutely none," she shook her head. "As you might imagine, my family tends to stay as far away from anything wesen related as possible."

"Except when you rip apart thugs in parks," he suggested playfully.

She huffed. "That was a noble cause!"

"Agreed."

He smiled at her for a moment. "Mira," he said gently. "I am honored by your trust in telling me your history. I hope I do not push too hard to ask you to tell me your name?"

He meant the name of her wesen bloodline, of course. "You may not have heard of us. We are called the Speigelkin, or, more commonly, Mirrorkin."

"'A living mirror,'" he echoed.

"Yes," she said. "Some also call us fairies, long ago. We can reflect any woge we have seen, though not as powerfully as the original wesen. Sometimes it helps us pass undetected, as we can appear to be of another bloodline. But it can also be a gamble."

"I can only guess. That explains a great many things."

She smiled a bit. "I suppose so."

Sean swirled his wine for a moment. "May I may one more request?"

Mira thought she knew what it would be, and sure enough…

"May I see?" he asked. He sounded eager and slightly nervous, like a sixteen year old boy asking for his first kiss.

Mira set her glass down and stood up. Taking a few steps away she turned to face him and summoned her full woge.

Her skin rippled into a smooth sea of crystal, every joint and curve faceted to produce a flock of rainbows. Her hair transformed into a cascade of starlight. Even her eyes turned from a normal, intense blue, into a truly deep, glowing sapphire fringed in lashes that shinned like a nebulae. Her teeth and fingernails sharpened into razors of diamond glass. And everywhere she glowed with a pure, deep, sparkling blue of a twilight sky reflected off a perfectly still lake.

At that moment Sean knew he beheld the most beautiful element of all of God's creation. " _Sacrée bleu…"_

Mira had never woged outside of battle before, self-control being crucial for survival for her kind, so she had only ever seen a fear reaction to her woge. She was therefore astonished to see Sean stand up breathing hard, moisture beading in the corners of his eyes.

"I think," he said slowly, "that this is what they mean by a beauty to smote one's heart."

She blinked and lost hold of the woge. It slowly slipped away, leaving Mira feeling more solid and vulnerable at the same time.

Sean stepped forward and again took one of her hands in his. "Mira." He paused, searching for words. "You couldn't stop me loving you now if you tried. _Se il vous plaît prendre un café avec moi demain?"_ (Please have coffee with me tomorrow?)


End file.
